Elisa Maria Argiro

Elisa Maria Argiro Jul 2016

From deep within the cavern of my heart
a stream of truth is rising.

Like clear water rising through
the rock of ages
it flows.

It caresses the rock
softening its edges, leaving it
still strong and sure.

From deep within the womb of my body
a seed of truth is rising, warming to
the sweetness of a newly radiant heart.

From deep within the jewel of my heart
the light of love is shining.

Vast is the one unbounded space
within me, all around me.

Vast is the one lovely moment
which is right here,
and which is right now.

©Elisa Maria Argiro

#truth #heart #light #now #lovely #womb

Elisa Maria Argiro Jul 2016

Eyes of Light

My very dear friends and wonderful, international tribe of poets:
When I first joined you all here last August, I was in a time of deep solitude, culturing inner silence.
It became an ideal time to make real progress with my writing.
The part I had no idea about then, and that has become such a treasured part of my life, is the growth and blossoming of new friendships
with many of you!
On June 2nd, 2016, just over a month ago, I felt an innocent, spontaneous impulse to open up, once again, to the world around me.
After all that immersion in transcendental bliss consciousness, life began presenting me with beautiful new opportunities, which has in turn lead to the most fantastic job I have yet had the honor to call my own, in which I am able to express and employ
all of my particular set of talents and abilities.
Hence, then, my long absence, and my enormous, growing admiration for those of you who have families, jobs,
and also contribute excellent poems here!
*May the force be always with the poets, the writers, the thinkers, the artists... all the good and sincere well-wishers of our dear world family, and of our precious Mother Earth.

(I have just re-written this poem that speaks to my present experience and frame of mind, and thought to offer it again in this context.)

Eyes of Light

Momentarily, two eye-shaped
places in these thick grey clouds
stared directly at me, and there it was:

"Always be truthful.
Always be kind."

Just that.
A reminder.

Slipping down into the place
beyond all words,
feeling knowingness
seeping
into my bones,
residing in quiet bliss,
at home
in my own authenticity.

The lamp at the door shines,
both within, and without
residing, just being,
knowing, in the the words
of Julian of Norwich:
"All shall be well,
and all shall be well
and all manner
of things shall be well.”

©Elisa Maria Argiro

#authenticity #knowingness #julianofnorwich #thelampatthedoor

Elisa Maria Argiro Jun 2016

Of Life on This Planet

On the bridge
between waking and sleeping
I met my father's eyes.

So beautiful and dark,
filled with quiet trouble,
and with tender invention.

Here in this nature park
green branches reach out
to one another, embracing
the air and the sky, touching,
sending chills down each other's
bark and trunk, meeting overhead.

You, my youngest brother, have
our father's eyes, and they are eyes
of pain and tenderness, of caring
every day for our beloved, ailing planet.

Above our heads, just now, down at the bottom
of the road to Ely Ford, sycamores carry thousands
of backlit leaves, each a green window into its own reality.

Who could have known that after so many months of silent solitude,
giving up completely on the illusory version of love,
a new beginning to life would begin as clearly and simply
as the moment when a butterfly, shoulders hunched in the final stages
of imprisonment within its sacred cocoon, knows unswervingly that
this is the day to bust loose, to slowly stretch wet, untried wings,
gingerly begin to flex her coloured, powdery, armature:
learning the way trust in truth and goodness
frees one completely.

*And sheets, and sheets of white light wash over me.
Sheets and sheets of white light wash over me.

©Elisa Maria Argirò

#father #earth #light #brother #cocoon

Elisa Maria Argiro May 2016

Casa Gonzales

"Casa Gonzales, leave a message."

                     In this lilting, merry voice,

                                        you can hear her kindness,

                                         even that famous dry wit.

                              A dusty Sunday afternoon drew me here,

                             and I knocked shyly on the handmade door.

                             Stirred from easy conversation with friends

                                   by the energetic, furry little dogs,

                              a tall, courtly gentleman came to greet me.

                                      In him I saw a graceful manner,

                          the wisdom of a life well-lived, and kindness too.

                            Together we walked to the opened door of

                                    the little casita beside their home.

                                     They had been newlyweds here,

                                    began their family in this bedroom

                                              that could be mine.

                                  Looking down at me, more than once,

                                     he said: "You would be safe here."

                                    Words that soaked into my bones,

                                                  into my heart.

                                           Time has gone by and I

                                         have made my home here

                                         on this simple, holy ground,

                                           beneath the shining stars,

                                          safe, and deep in joy, beside

                                             Casa Gonzales.

Poem from an earlier time... with New Mexico on my mind... and in my heart...
©Elisa Maria Argiro

#peace #home #starlight #highdesert

Elisa Maria Argiro May 2016

A Poet's Food

It might be the brilliant yellow of turmeric
boiled into salted potatoes,
washed down with the brown
of peppermint tea.

Or the intoxicating fragrance, when
we are hungry enough, of simple
spices. Cinnamon and cloves,
in another dish of oatmeal.

Outside the house, across the street,
the neighbors' children scream happily
into the warm night, where
the first fireflies begin to appear.

©Elisa Maria Argiro

#food #poets #children #fireflies #turmeric

Elisa Maria Argiro May 2016

In the Language of Leaves

A collaboration between SG Holter and Elisa Maria Argiro

Hesitating here, silent edge of this dark forest,
I look beyond me, warm in the white fog.
Seeing your heart, now residing deep within
the ancient wood, is to know it is blessed, loved.

Silver tongue resting now in golden silence.
Palms of soul upon moss and brittle bark.
Animal song; scent of beasts approaching unafraid.
Fierce peace. The opposite of a machine.

In the rising sap of silent trees around us,
our deeply beating pulses listen, dance,
smiling kisses at the shining stars, new planets.
Eyes open, anima and animus press tightly
And distance is no more.

"What language is Yours,"
I ask the still growing giants of
Green.
"Silence and its sister tongues
Such as leaves dancing with the
Breeze," they reply within the
Gap between soft sounds and
Softer ones.
So we speak through breaths
Exchanged, of nothing.
Two souls afloat upon the stream
Of Union with All.
What is Cosmos,
But "home"?
Never a visitor.
Never a stranger.
Nowhere has anyone ever been
Lost, or
Away.*

Humming your essence into my veins,
in tune with the wordless languages
of green lives and wind, listening
among delicate flowers, sleeping here
on the forest floor, wakeful and awaiting
the next sound of your voiceless voice,
wind words blowing
through my long, curling hair,
feeling the intention of your
untouched touch,
at home, just being.

#home #silence #being #touch #wind #language #cosmos

Elisa Maria Argiro May 2016

In the Hands of Women

Held in the hands of the women of the world
is all that was and will be.

In her tiny, newborn hands, reaching out,
feeling the air all around her,
is curiosity, openness, freedom.

May is always be so.

Our mother's hands hold
healing like none other, when she
is centered in her own heart.

May it be forever thus.*

Women's hands gesture, gracing our most
ancient and sacred of dances.

And drive trucks.

And do surgery.

And gather healing herbs.

*In the hands of all women is the healing of the world.

#world #healing #women #sacred